


Guilt by Dissimulation

by JJJunky



Category: Simon and Simon (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJunky/pseuds/JJJunky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A plane hijacking causes a rift between the brothers. Can it be fixed before tragedy strikes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt by Dissimulation

Guilt by Dissimulation  
By JJJunky

 

"Attention passengers for United Flight 144 to Boston. First class passengers and anyone who needs assistance may board now. We will begin general boarding in a few minutes."

Rick Simon helped his mother and brother gather their belongings. He was disappointed they would be boarding so soon. It wasn't that he was upset they were going; rather it meant he would have to leave the relative coolness of the airport that much sooner. All that waited for him outside was one hundred plus degree heat. He wasn't looking forward to returning to it. If AJ had loaned him the money to fix the air-conditioning in his truck, he wouldn't be so desperate. Rick wilted as he watched the waves of heat bounce off the tarmac.

"All those in rows 26 to 33 may now begin to board."

"Richard!"

A sharp pain in his side forced Rick to refocus his attention on his mother. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Don't forget to take AJ's punch bowl over to Bud and Edie's. I promised them it would be delivered no later than five this afternoon."

"I know," Rick sighed, feeling like he was ten years old. "You've reminded me a hundred times already."

"I could do it another hundred and you'd still forget," Cecilia resignedly muttered.

"Passengers in rows 19 to 25 may now board."

Throwing the strap of his carry-on bag over his shoulder, AJ unnecessarily checked his boarding pass. "That's us, Mom."

Rick led the way to the growing line moving slowly toward the gate. His natural instincts made him absently study the other passengers. It looked like the flight would be only half full.

A few feet from the desk, Rick handed his mother's bag to AJ and pulled the diminutive woman into a tight hug. "Take care of her, AJ."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself young man," Cecilia angrily admonished, slapping his shoulder.

"If you're so worried," AJ said, hitching the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder, "you could take Mom to the wedding."

"I'm not that worried," Rick admitted, hastily backing away. "Have a good flight."

Next in line, AJ handed their boarding passes to the stewardess. Juggling the two bags, he reached to accept their ticket stubs. In doing so, he accidentally bumped the passenger waiting behind him. AJ was still apologizing to the young woman as the three made their way down the ramp to the aircraft.

Rick smiled fondly after them. The look on the girl's face had been anything but angry. It was obvious his brother had made another conquest. When they were kids, Rick had sometimes been jealous of AJ's looks. It didn't help that his little brother was oblivious to the power they gave him and rarely took advantage.

Though he would have liked to linger, Rick quickly walked back to the parking lot. He had to testify in court the next morning. Since this was his excuse for not attending their cousin's wedding, he was determined to be prepared. He planned to spend the remainder of the day reviewing his notes. He wasn't afraid of what the prosecution would do to him if he was unprepared - he was afraid of AJ. If his little brother found out he had lost them the case, there would be hell to pay.

***

AJ put his mother's bag under the seat in front of her before throwing his own into the overhead bin. Sitting down, he closed his eyes. He and Rick had been on a stakeout the night before, so he had gotten little sleep. When he heard the stewardess close the cabin door, he sighed with relief. The plane was less than half full. It looked like the seat next to his would remain empty. As soon as they were in the air, he would put the arm rest up and stretch out a little. A 737 wasn't exactly spacious.

When someone slipped into the aisle seat beside him, AJ barely managed to swallow a groan of disappointment. Opening his eyes, his gaze rested on the young woman he had bumped into at the check-in counter. Though she seemed pleasant enough, there was something about her AJ didn't trust.

Leaning as far forward as her seatbelt would allow, Cecilia pleasantly introduced herself, "I'm Cecilia Simon and this is my son, AJ."

"I'm Lena."

"We're going to Boston for my niece's wedding," Cecilia happily explained, not put off by the girl's abbreviated response. "Are you going for business or pleasure?"

"Boston?" Lena's questioning gaze rested on the older woman before she finally replied, "I guess you would consider it business."

"It's a beautiful city. If you haven't been there before you should at least try to find the time to walk the Freedom Trail. It's inspiring."

The plane lurched as it pulled away from the gate.

Clutching her bag tightly in her arms, Lena absently nodded. "I'll try."

"Would you like me to put your bag in the overhead bin?" AJ asked, reaching for it.

"No!" Lena almost shouted, pulling away.

Cecilia gently patted her knee. "There's nothing to be afraid of, dear. Flying is one of the safest forms of transportation."

"I'm not afraid," Lena indignantly snapped.

"Of course not," Cecilia calmly agreed, sitting back in her seat and looking out the window.

AJ's instincts screamed that his mother had misinterpreted Lena's reaction. If anything, he would say the girl was excited, not scared. Her mood was obviously not related to who or what was waiting for her in Boston. She hardly seemed to realize that was their destination. Something about her fascinated him. Small boned, she looked almost fragile, yet, he could see muscles rippling up her arm. Long dark hair framed a heart-shaped face. Its beauty was marred by the petulant curl of her lips. Why was she on this flight? And why had she taken the seat next to his? It obviously wasn't the one she had been assigned.

The questions multiplied as the plane raced down the runway. With a jarring bounce, it lifted off. White, fluffy clouds, that wouldn't produce the relief the drought ridden land below thirsted for, enveloped them. AJ yawned hoping to pop his ears. This was the only effect of flying he could honestly say he didn't enjoy. Following a flight, he often suffered with a headache that plagued him for days.

"Are you looking forward to your niece's wedding?" Lena asked, her soft voice barely audible above the roar of the engines.

"She's my mother's niece," AJ corrected. "She's my cousin."

"Are you?" Lena tactlessly pressed.

Annoyed, but too polite to be rude, AJ nodded, "Yes."

"Then I hope you don't miss it."

Puzzled, AJ shook his head. "Why would I miss it?'

"Because," Lena said, unzipping her bag, "our layover in Chicago may take longer than expected."

Excitement radiated from the woman. His unease growing, AJ's eyes followed her hand as it slipped into her bag. He wasn't as surprised as he should have been when she pulled out a gun. Realizing he would have to act quickly, AJ struck her wrist with the side of his hand. When the slim fingers went limp, he took possession of the weapon.

"You shouldn't have done that," Lena mildly protested.

"You shouldn't be carrying a gun on an airplane," AJ angrily returned, checking to make sure the safety was on.

Brown eyes glowing with innocence, Lena said, "But I need it to hijack the plane."

"To what?"

"Hijack the plane."

Convinced he was dealing with an insane individual, AJ looked around for a flight attendant. Unable to find one, he pushed the button on the arm of his chair. Something would have to be done with the girl until she could be delivered to the proper authorities.

"It's time, Lena."

A young man with greasy, red hair and wire-rimmed glasses stood blocking the aisle. AJ's initial relief that he was a family member who would look after the young girl was quickly dashed. Rage glowed from the bright green eyes making AJ shudder. A gun appeared in the boy's free hand.

"I can't, Brian." Lena shrugged her shoulders and pointed to AJ. "He took my gun."

"May I help you?" Short of stature, the stewardess stood on tip-toe to peer over the top of the tall seat in front of AJ.

"You can't help him," Brian declared, putting his arm around her neck and pulling her to him, "but you can help me."

"Sir, please." Hands pulled ineffectually at the restraining arm.

Pressing the barrel of his gun against the flight attendant's temple, Brian ordered, "Give Lena back her gun."

With no other option open to him, AJ quickly complied. "Just let her go," he begged.

A scream, from the woman in the seat in front of Lena, shattered the relative calm. Disgust twisting his face, Brian pressed harder. The pale skin beneath the barrel was leached of blood. Dragging the stewardess to the front of the coach section, Brian shouted, "Everyone shut-up!

The command was repeated several times before it was obeyed.

Approaching the male steward who stood helplessly inside the galley, Lena said, "I want everybody moved to the back of the plane. First class passengers, too."

Scared eyes met his co-worker's before he unhappily nodded.

AJ held his mother's hand as he led her to one of the empty seats in the back row. Afraid a passenger might do something foolish that could jeopardize them all, he studied them with a professional eye. He quickly identified a man and an elderly woman as potential hazards. Each for vastly different reasons. In his mid-fifties, the man was well over six feet tall. A slight paunch around his stomach showed he had only recently started to lose the fight with age. Anger rather than fear glowed from his eyes. He was the type who thought he was John Wayne.

The woman was a crier. Her loud sobs were already playing on AJ's nerves. He hated to think what they might be doing to the hijackers. Threats and pleas for silence only added fuel to the fire.

"Now," Brian said, pulling his hostage to the center of the cabin and throwing her into a seat. "Let me explain what we expect from you."

"All your valuables," Lena giggled.

"That can wait," Brian angrily scolded her. Reaching into the bag Lena had guarded so diligently, he pulled out a life-jacket and slipped it on. When it was securely fastened, he pulled out a second vest and handed it to Lena.

Even at this distance, AJ could see the vests were teeming with tiny pockets, each bulging with its contents. A red Christmas tree light glowed brightly through a pocket on the right shoulder.

"We aren't trying to make a fashion statement with these vests," Brian explained. "It's the most efficient way to become a human bomb. Each of these pockets holds a gram of plastic explosive. They, in turn, are wired to a dead man's switch. If we should stop breathing, for any reason, BOOM!"

"So you see," Lena smiled, "it's in your best interests to keep us alive."

"These little red lights," Brian tapped the Christmas bulb, "are your guide. If it dies, so will we all."

"What do you want?" John Wayne belligerently demanded.

"A million dollars," Lena revealed, pouting when the bulky vest wouldn't adjust to her satisfaction. "If your families don't think you're worth the price, you better hope the airline will pay to save its plane."

Trying to inject some reason into the situation, AJ observed, "Even if you get the money there's nowhere in the world you could go to spend it."

"That's not your concern. Now is it, Hero?" Brian sneered, pointing his gun at AJ. "All you need to worry about is staying alive."

***

Rick dragged himself across the squad room to Downtown Brown's office. Without a word to the black man sitting behind the desk, he collapsed on the coach. Gratefully breathing in the cool air, he expelled the hot with a sigh of relief.

"Nice performance," Town said, clapping his hands in appreciation. "How about an encore?"

One eye opened to stare indignantly at the police lieutenant. "What would you know about suffering sitting here in this nice air-conditioned office? Public servants have all the luck."

"Public servants get all the shit," Town contradicted. "The last I knew your office was air-conditioned."

"Was being the operative word here." The eye closed.

"Don't tell me AJ entrusted you with the bills again?" Town gasped, in mock horror.

Both eyes opened. "As a matter of fact, he did. But that's not why the air-conditioning's out. They must've blown a fuse or something. There's no power in that whole section of town."

"So why have I been blessed with your company?"

"AJ's house is on the same power grid, and the A/C unit in my truck is broken. I don't have the money to fix it."

"And AJ wouldn't loan you any," Town correctly interpreted.

"He thinks the suffering will teach me to save."

Town shook his head. "Ever the optimist."

The phone rang, preventing Rick from replying. As soon as he found out the caller was Temple Hill, he tuned out the conversation. A man deserved a little privacy when he was talking to his lady. Only when Town rose from behind his desk and crossed to the TV in the corner did he return to awareness. "What's up?"

"I don't know," Town admitted, a worried frown creasing his brow. "Temple said to turn on Channel 3. Then she was called away."

Rick sat up as the set glowed to life. The words "Special Bulletin" briefly filled the small screen before being replaced by Temple's grave countenance. All Rick's internal alarms started clanging. He tried to still them as he fought to concentrate on what Temple was saying.

"This is Temple Hill to bring you this special report. We have just received word that United Flight 144 from San Diego to Boston has been hijacked. . . "

Speechless, Rick stared at the screen in horror. Why had it become so difficult to breathe?

". . . The hijackers are demanding a million dollars in ransom. The plane will land in Chicago for refueling in one hour. The instructions state the money is to be delivered there . . ."

Still unable to say a word, Rick shifted his tortured gaze to his friend's face.

Accurately interpreting the plea he read in the aqua-blue eyes, Town crossed to the phone and lifted the receiver. "I'll get us a flight to Chicago."

". . . The hijackers are using one of the passengers as their spokesman. He is AJ Simon, a Private Investigator here in San Diego. According to Mr. Simon, the two hijackers are wearing vests padded with plastic explosives. Dead man switches have been wired to connect their chest with the vest. If their heart stops beating the bomb will go off. . ."

Rick's own heart skipped a beat. How had AJ gotten himself connected with these people? Why had they chosen him as their spokesman instead of one of the crew? Would it increase AJ's chances of survival, or diminish them?

". . . We will of course keep you updated on any new developments. This is Temple Hill for Channel 3 news."

"Rick?"

Town's concerned voice finally penetrated Rick's stupor. Tearing his eyes from the two soap opera stars who had replaced Temple, he turned his attention to his friend.

"United has a special charter leaving in an hour," Town said, grabbing his suit jacket from the coat rack. "We better hurry."

"You're coming with me?" Rick dazedly asked.

"Yeah," Town replied, giving no other explanation.

Warmed by the friendship this man had bestowed on them, Rick fought back the tears. He knew the next few hours would have been hard to endure alone. How lucky he was he wouldn't need to.

***

Cecilia exchanged worried glances with her son, before her gaze shifted to the scenery flashing past her window. The wheels bounced hard on the runway making her grip the arms of her chair until the knuckles turned white. How sensitive was plastic explosive? Would a simple jolt set it off? AJ would know the answer. It was unfortunate she couldn't ask him. He had been forced to leave her and sit in a seat closer to the cockpit. Brian didn't want the pilots talking to anyone. Only AJ was allowed on the radio.

Lena had chosen AJ to be their contact with the authorities. The pilot had protested, stating he was responsible for his passengers and would act as mediator. Lena had simple ignored him. It was obvious to Cecilia the girl was insane. Would her infatuation with AJ help keep him alive or get him killed?

A hand touched hers, drawing Cecilia's attention to the elderly woman who had taken AJ's seat. Though Janet Carson was around her own age, she knew that if they had met under any other circumstances, they would barely have acknowledged each other's existence. Now, with barely a word spoken, they had become friends. Each taking comfort from the other.

***

Rick had barely stepped off the plane when a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the disembarking passengers. He quickly took hold of Town's shirtsleeve to prevent them from being separated.

"Are you Richard Simon?"

Curiosity dampening his anger, Rick haughtily regarded the young man in the tailored suit. "I am."

"Come with me, please."

Shaking his head, Rick took a step to where the other family members of the hijack victims of Flight 144 were gathering around a United representative. "I don't know who you are buddy, but I got more important things to do than play games with you."

"I really must insist." Taking out his wallet, the man flashed his FBI ID.

Rick sheepishly glanced at Town. "I should've known by the suit."

"It was the good manners that threw you off," Town reasoned.

As the two friends started to follow the agent, he put a hand on Town's chest, "We only need Mr. Simon."

"If you want me," Rick said, relishing the experience of having the upper hand with the FBI, "then you want my friend."

Town pulled out his own wallet and flashed his badge. "Think of me as a fellow enforcement agent."

Frowning his disapproval, the agent reluctantly nodded. "This way."

They had barely left the gate and slipped into the milling crowd when Rick was painfully jabbed in the stomach by an errant elbow. "Is it always this crowded?" he grumbled.

"The hijacker's plane is sitting at the intersection of two of the main runways," the agent explained. "Flights are being delayed by up to four hours. O'Hare is the world's busiest airport, you know."

Grunting as he was struck in the leg by a runaway bag, Rick sighed. "You won't get any argument from me."

None too soon, as far as Rick's bruised body was concerned, they entered a restricted area leaving the seething masses behind. At the end of a long hallway, they entered a large room whose entire west wall was made of glass. Rick's eyes were immediately drawn to the lone airplane sitting out on the runway.

"Mr. Simon?"

An older man, his dark hair liberally sprinkled with grey, rose from a desk and crossed to the new arrivals. Rick immediately liked what he saw. Though not handsome, the man had an intelligent face and compassionate eyes.

"I'm Agent Roberts. I'm in charge of this operation. I'm also the one who's been in contact with your brother."

"Is he all right?" Rick eagerly inquired.

"As of five minutes ago he was," Roberts reassured him. "He just relayed the hijackers latest demands."

"Which are?"

"Impossible to meet," Roberts simply stated. "Are you close to your brother, Mr. Simon?"

Wondering what that had to do with the hijacking, Rick nodded. "Yes."

"They're not only brothers," Town clarified, "they're best friends."

Roberts smiled. "Good. We finally got a break. What I need you to do is listen to the transmissions and see if you can read anything from your brother's voice."

"Like what?"

"Like whether the hijackers are serious about killing their hostages or if they're bluffing."

A chill ran up Rick's spine. He and AJ were close, but could he do what the agent wanted? What if he was wrong? "I'll try," he reluctantly agreed.

***

AJ glanced at his watch. They were now officially entering the twenty-fourth hour of their captivity. He knew it was only a matter of time before somebody died. When his initial demands hadn't been met, Brian had destroyed the galley and its contents. The destruction had rendered the elevator inoperative, making it impossible to reach the supplies only a few feet below. Lack of sleep, fluids, and food were beginning to take their toll. Brian was becoming edgier and edgier. How long before he exploded?

Added to the other discomforts was the heat. The interior of the aircraft had become a sweat-box. Dehydration was already affecting Lena's judgment. Almost overcome by the heat, she had started to remove her vest. Only Brian's cry of alarm had saved them.

"They've done enough stalling," Brian angrily shouted, climbing awkwardly to his feet and dragging AJ up with him. "We're going to call one more time, and you're going to tell them the money better be here in thirty minutes, or people are going to die."

"You've said that before," AJ wearily reminded him, stumbling into the empty cockpit. "Why should they believe you now?"

"If they don't, they'll be sorry."

"They aren't going to be as sorry as you are," AJ insisted, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. "Why don't you offer to give them half of the hostages for half of the money? They they'll know you're dealing in good faith."

"They'll know I'm serious when the first body is thrown out that door." Brian pointed to the forward hatch.

"That'll just make them come after you, and we'll all die."

"They wouldn't be that stupid."

Exasperated with the man's naiveté, AJ said, "All they're waiting for is an excuse to attack. Don't give it to them."

"They can't attack until I get the money." Poking his gun in AJ's chest, Brian ordered, "You tell them I'll give them twenty passengers for half the money."

AJ was disappointed. He had hoped to get more released, but he knew better than to press Brian any further. Nodding, he switched the radio on, "I've been instructed to inform you that twenty passengers will be released. In exchange, they want half of the money."

"AJ, this is Inspector Roberts," the FBI agent's familiar voice crackled over the line. "We've only been able to collect a third of the ransom. Would that be sufficient?"

"No-o-o-o!" Brian screamed, grabbing the handset, "If there isn't half a million dollars sitting on that tarmac in thirty minutes, there'll be dead bodies on it."

"I don't think--"

Brian switched off the radio before Roberts could finish his statement. "No more excuses," he shouted at the dead microphone.

Fanning his face with his hand, AJ asked, "Who are you going to release?"

"Oh, no." Brian shook his head, as he dragged AJ to the door of the cockpit where they could see the passengers and crew at the back of the plane. "I'm not going to choose. You are. Then, if anyone dies, it'll be on your head, not mine."

AJ's lethargy quickly disappeared. In his present state of mind, the convoluted logic made sense. He had been chosen to play God. It was a role he didn't feel qualified to play.

***

"What do you think, Rick?" Roberts asked, laying down his hand mike.

Rick's respect for the FBI agent had grown since they first met. This was one government official who seemed to be more worried about the hostages than about money or public image. "I think," he reluctantly offered, "you better get the money out there."

"If I do," Roberts sighed, rubbing his temples, "what's to prevent them from taking off with the remaining passengers?"

"Nothing," Rick admitted, staring dully at the lone plane sitting out on the runway. "You wanted me here because I can read AJ's voice and I'm telling you this time that guy means business. AJ thinks he'll start killing if we don't do as he's instructed."

"Dammit!" Roberts struck the desk with his fist. "If would sure help if I knew the type of person I was dealing with here."

A door slammed, making Rick wince.

"We got the portfolio on our hijackers," a young agent excitedly announced, holding two folders high in the air.

The heavy silence that had greeted the new arrival turned to excited babbling.

"Get them over here," Roberts shouted above the uproar. "Somebody get two of those suitcases ready to go." The agent pointed to the corner where four suitcases sat, filled almost to overflowing with money.

Snatching the files from the younger agent's hand, Roberts opened one and started to read out loud. "The male suspect is Brian Pounder. Age 21. He just graduated from UCLA with a BS in chemistry."

"Which means those vests could be for real," Town unhappily interpreted.

"Which means those vests could be for real," Roberts repeated in agreement. "His draft number was 3. He was supposed to report to Fort Dix yesterday."

Rick's eyes narrowed, "It looks like he decided to take a side trip instead."

Opening the second folder, Roberts read, "Lena Myers. Age 20. Recent dropout from UCLA. She spent most of her teen years in and out of mental institutions. The first time she was committed she had tried to kill her little brother."

Filled with despair, Rick stared out at the aircraft containing his mother and brother. When he had first arrived at Chicago's O'Hare Airport and met with the hostage negotiators, he'd still had hope. As the hours passed with no change in the situation, his spirits started to drop. Until now, the hijackers had refused to compromise. For some reason, they had changed their minds. Somehow, he knew AJ had been instrumental in the decision. Hoping his mother would be among the small group to be released, Rick asked, "Are you going to make the exchange, Inspector?"

"Yeah," Roberts unhappily nodded. "At least it'll buy us some time."

***

AJ's eyes pleaded with his mother for understanding. Did she know how difficult it was for him not to include her in the twenty to be released? There were fourteen children on board ranging in age from a few months to twelve years. Naturally, they had been his first consideration. Next, he had added the two pregnant women. This had left only four positions. The decision seemed impossibly hard. Among the elderly people, his mother was still in remarkably good condition. This could not be said for many of the others. His heart battled with his conscience as he chose the remaining party: Mr. Lassiter, Mr. and Mrs. Harper, and Mrs. Fredricks. Each seemed to be having difficulty breathing in the super-heated air. If he chose his mother over them and one of them died, he knew he couldn't live with himself. Yet, if anything happened to his mother, he wouldn't want to go on living.

Cecilia smiled gently at her youngest son. A slight nod showed her support for his decision. Tears filled AJ's eyes. Now more than ever, he knew how blessed he was to have such a mother.

"Time's up!" Brian shouted, glancing at his watch.

It was heart-wrenching watching the children being torn from their parents. At first, AJ wondered if he had made the right decision. He unhappily reached to take the youngest, a four-month-old boy, from his mother. Tears streaked her pale face even as hope glowed in her eyes. Leaning toward him, she whispered a husky, "Thank you."

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, AJ led the lucky few to the front hatch. Handing the baby to Mrs. Fredricks, he struggled with the latch. He was about to admit defeat when it suddenly sprung open. Triumph turned to despair as he viewed the long drop to the ground. "I'm going to have to call for stairs," he hesitantly told Brian.

"No!" the hijacker screamed. "You told the FBI that if I see a vehicle within a mile of this plane I'll blow it up?"

"I told them," AJ calmly confirmed, hoping his composed demeanor would relax the agitated man.

"Good," Brian said, shrugging his shoulders, "then get going."

"They can't jump, they'll get hurt," AJ protested.

"They can jump or they can stay. I don't care."

The stewardess Brian had held his gun on earlier partially stood up. "If you pull that handle," she said, pointing to an orange lever by the side of the door, "the escape chute will deploy."

AJ reached to pull the handle, only to stop. If there was one thing he had learned about Brian since the hijacking began, it was that he became the most unstable when someone else used their initiative. "May I?" AJ asked, indicating the switch.

"No!" Sitting in one of the front row seats, Brian pointed his gun at the baby in Mrs. Fredricks' arms.

"How do you plan to get the money?" AJ demanded, raising his voice to drown out the cries of fear emanating from the baby's mother.

"You're gonna go get it, Hero."

"If I don't release the emergency chute, I won't be able to climb back into the plane."

Leaning forward, Brian's bloodshot eyes stared out of the hatch at the tarmac far below. "All right," he reluctantly conceded. "You do know what will happen if you don't return?"

"I know," AJ sighed. "You'll kill someone."

"Not just someone."

AJ's brow furrowed as his eyes anxiously sought his mother's. Had he made the biggest mistake of his life? Would she be the one to pay for it?

"If you're gonna go," Brian impatiently screamed, "go!"

Closing his eyes, AJ pulled the handle. A loud hiss filled the cabin as the chute inflated. Without hesitation, AJ jumped and slid to the bottom. His right foot twisted as it struck the hard asphalt. He barely noticed this new discomfort. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he turned to encourage the others to follow. The first down was a ten-year-old boy, who whooped with joy as he shot down the slide. AJ barely managed to catch him before he struck the runway. The last child was the baby in Mrs. Fredricks' arms. AJ's hands were noticeably shaky when he finally held the small bundle in his arms. Handing him to one of the older children, AJ waved encouragement to the six adults standing apprehensively at the top. "Come on," he anxiously urged, afraid Brian would change his mind.

Each of the pregnant women closed their eyes before jumping. Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Fredricks bravely followed. The remaining three needed more urging before they reluctantly jumped.

Reclaiming the baby, AJ led the group to the mile perimeter where vehicles were waiting. It was a long walk for the exhausted, dehydrated bodies. More than once, a child sat down refusing to go any further. Using encouragement, anger and humiliation, AJ got them back on their feet. Yet, even as he helped them, he had to fight the urge to join them.

The sun beat down on AJ's exposed head making him feel faint and dizzy. He was walking in a daze by the time they reached their destination. Handing the baby to the person who grabbed his arm to support him, he croaked, "Where's the money?"

"AJ?"

The hand on his arm tightened, making AJ look up. "Rick?" he whispered.

"How's Mom?" Rick asked, absently relinquishing the baby to an emergency worker.

"She's fine. At least she will be," AJ amended, "once I get back with the money."

"Here it is," Roberts said, setting the suitcases in front of AJ, who was guiltily drinking from a water bottle Town had pressed into his hands. "Have you got any idea how we can end this thing without anybody getting hurt?"

Lifting the heavy suitcases, AJ shook his head. "I wish I did. Do you have the rest of the money?"

"Yes."

"I'll try to get Brian to exchange more hostages for another quarter million. That's the best I can do right now. I'm sorry."

"You're doing a good job, AJ," Roberts encouraged. "Try to hang in there."

AJ felt like crying, but there wasn't enough moisture left in his body to waste on tears. The weight of the suitcases pulling at his arms, he slowly trudged back to the plane.

As he watched his brother walk away, Rick fought the protective instinct urging him to bring AJ back to where it was safe. It was so painful allowing him to return to a situation that could cost him his life. But Rick knew he had to let him go. People's lives, including their mother's, depended on him.

"Come on, Rick." Town pulled at his friend's arm, prevailing upon him to help the overloaded emergency workers. Now that they were safe, the children had started to release the emotions they had been forced to suppress for so long.

His compassionate heart aching, Rick scooped up a little girl and cradled her in his arms. She was old enough to understand the danger she had been in and that still faced her parents. Gently rocking her, Rick found the most disturbing element wasn't her crying. It was that there were no tears. The small, dehydrated body didn't have enough moisture for even one.

Frightened, he headed for an ambulance attendant. He had only taken a few steps when he felt a tug at his sleeve. Pausing, he glanced down at a frail old woman. Her flush, dirty face contrasted sharply with the pure white sheet that covered her. Despite the oxygen mask on her face helping her to breathe, her chest rose and fell much too quickly.

Pushing the mask to the side, the woman whispered, "Someone told me that you were AJ's brother."

"That's right," Rick proudly nodded. "I am."

"He saved my life. He's a very brave boy."

"I know--"

"If he hadn't chosen me," she interrupted, "I know I wouldn't have lasted much longer."

Rick's initial desire to soothe the distraught woman turned to an aching need. "What do you mean?" he pressed. "AJ chose you?"

"Brian made him choose the hostages to be released," she elaborated. "I know it must have been difficult for him. Especially with his own mother under constant threat."

An EMT slipped the mask across the wrinkled nose and mouth. "We're ready for you now, Mrs. Fredricks."

In shock, Rick absently watched as the stretcher was wheeled away and put into an ambulance. He absently resisted when someone tried to take the child from his arms.

"It's all right, Rick," a familiar voice soothed. "They'll take care of her now."

Reluctantly relinquishing his burden, Rick shook his head. "It's not all right, Town. AJ had the chance to save Mom's life, and he didn't take it."

"I heard . . ."

"How could he do that?" Rick angrily demanded, his right hand curling into a fist

"There are over a hundred and fifty people on that plane, Rick. If only twenty could be released, how would you choose?" Town gently inquired.

"Mom would've been my first choice."

Waving a hand at the children and elderly people that surrounded them, Town pointed out, "To save Cecilia, you would've had to leave one of these people behind. Who would you have sacrificed?"

Rick reluctantly studied the pale faces of the recently rescued passengers. He knew Town's question was a legitimate one. But he just couldn't apply logic when it came to his mother's life. "A son's first priority should be to save his mother."

***

Though the sun had settled below the horizon, conditions inside the plane had not improved. AJ knew it was only a matter of time before someone died. A light flashed through the window momentarily blinding him. How many men waited in the darkness beyond the search lights? How many people would die when they finally attacked?

For the last six hours, AJ had pleaded with Brian to exchange more hostages. He had refused. No one else would be released until his demands were met. Roberts had also taken a hard line, refusing to give up more money unless he got hostages in return. The one hundred and thirty people sweltering in the stuffy cabin were caught in the middle.

Brian wearily waved his gun at AJ. "You go tell them, if the money isn't here at dawn the first hostage will die. Then another fifteen minutes after that and another fifteen minutes after that, until nobody's left alive."

"I'll tell them," AJ agreed, "but I don't think it'll change their minds."

"I'm not bluffing."

"I know."

As he limped toward the cockpit, AJ knew Brian wasn't making an idle threat. What made things really difficult was that Roberts knew it, too. The knowledge didn't increase their options.

When he entered the cockpit, AJ was surprised to find Lena sitting in the co-pilot's seat. Allowing Brian to make all the decisions, she had stayed in the background. A shadowy threat sitting on the periphery, making it impossible to end the crisis.

"What are you doing here?" AJ demanded, allowing the door to swing shut behind him.

"My, my," Lena softly scolded. "What happened to the gallant gentlemen who bumped into me at the check-in counter?"

"He's hungry, thirsty, and too tired to play your games," AJ snapped, dropping wearily into the pilot's seat.

A long nail scrapped along AJ's cheek leaving a welt in its path. "You don't want to make me mad."

"Or what?"

"Or you'll be sorry," Lena said, tapping AJ's kneecap with the barrel of her gun. "My little brother crossed me one too many times. He'll spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair because of it. My only regret is that I didn't succeed in killing him."

Shaking his head in disbelief, AJ wondered, "How could they let you walk the streets?"

"I'm not crazy," Lena angrily returned, the fire in her eyes warning him to back off.

Too tired to care anymore, AJ refuted, "I imagine your brother wouldn't agree with your diagnosis."

"I don't care what my brother thinks of me."

AJ's lips curled reminiscently. "I'm just the opposite. My brother's opinion has always been very important to me."

"You're good looking and you have such nice manners." Lena sighed. "But you're not very smart are you?"

"I guess not."

Her eyes glancing furtively at the door, Lena leaned over and whispered, "Brian knows they're not going to give us the rest of the money. It doesn't matter. He doesn't really want it."

"Then why the hell is he doing this?" AJ angrily demanded, uncaring who heard him.

"He's protesting the war."

"What war? Vietnam's been over for years. All he seems to be worried about is getting the money."

"Without the money, his plan won't succeed."

"You're not making sense."

Lena frowned. "It makes perfect sense to me."

"What does he want to do with the money?" AJ asked, realizing he would have to tread lightly if he wanted to keep Lena talking.

"Wouldn't you like to take a million dollars from the government and blow it up?"

"No," AJ honestly replied, "the government gets its money from hard working taxpayers like me. You don't think it comes out of Carter's pocket, do you?"

"Of course not," Lena pouted, tapping the barrel of her gun on the control panel. "We're not idiots. At least Jimmy and all the presidents who follow him'll have a million less to spend on guns and bombs. Maybe then we can stop this stupid competition with the Soviet Union. I mean really, who cares about whose bomb will blow up more people."

"You think you can stop the Cold War?" AJ incredulously asked.

"We might be able to put a little dent in it anyway."

Despair filled AJ. "Why did you become part of this when you know you're going to die?"

Lena nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't have anything better to do. It sounded like fun."

Laying his head on his hands, AJ massaged his aching temples. "I've been jumping through his hoops for nothing."

"Brian would've blown this plane up a long time ago if you hadn't," Lena said, playing with the switches on the control panel. "The only reason this has gone on as long as it has is because he was having fun. Now, he's not having fun anymore. He's bored."

AJ shook his head,. "People are going to die because Brian's bored."

"Actually," Lena sighed, wiping the sweat from her face, "I'm surprised he didn't get bored sooner. He must've hoped he'd get all of the money."

"But now he knows he won't," AJ theorized. "Why is he waiting?"

"I guess he's hoping they'll storm the plane," Lena said, her eyes glowing with anticipation. "Then BOOM!"

"If I give Roberts Brian's ultimatum, that's exactly what they'll do," AJ softly whispered.

"I expect so."

"Which means, I can't make the call."

"You have no other choice," Lena haughtily argued.

"I have one," AJ disagreed.

Silently asking for his mother's forgiveness, AJ curled his right hand into a fist. As soon as Lena's attention returned to the instruments she been playing with, AJ punched her in the jaw. He caught her as she slumped forward and took the gun from her limp hand. Flicking the safety on, he laid it on the pilot's seat. Tugging the unconscious girl as far back in the chair as he could, he secured her to it with the seatbelt. Using his own belt and the seatbelt from the pilot's position, he strapped her arms to the chair. He would've liked to have deactivated the vest, but he didn't know how and this wasn't the time to experiment. Tearing a piece of cloth from the tail of his shirt, he stuffed the sweat-stained fabric into her mouth. He wasn't sure how long she would be out. It would be awkward if she came to at the wrong time. Retrieving the gun, he tucked it into a back pocket. It was the best he could do without a belt.

Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths to try and calm his nerves. He didn't dare call Roberts for help; Brian would blow up the plane. He would have to take out the hijacker himself - without killing Brian and activating the bomb. Hoping his face wasn't broadcasting his intentions, AJ opened the cockpit door and sidled out.

His legs stretched out so they blocked the aisle, Brian still sat in the front row seat he had occupied when AJ entered the cockpit. Crossing to the open hatch, AJ peered out. The lights of the terminal twinkled in the distance. Huge searchlights surrounded the plane illuminating it and the runway to almost half a mile away. In the darkness between, men waited for the signal to attack.

"You thinking of trying to make a run for it, Hero?" Brian softly inquired.

AJ shook his head. Hoping Brian didn't hear the quiver in his voice that amplified his fear, he said, "I thought I saw something moving."

"Where?" Brian excitedly demanded, sitting up and peering out the window.

"Over there," AJ replied, pointing to a spot that could only be seen from where he was standing. If his plan was to succeed, he had to get Brian to stand in the open hatch.

Anticipation flushing his face, Brian quickly rose and crossed to stand in front of AJ. "Where?"

Hating himself, AJ put his hands on the boy's back and pushed with all his strength. His arms flailing wildly, Brian flopped onto the escape chute and slid down it head first.

"Get down," AJ shouted to the other passengers, diving to the floor.

The words had barely left his lips when the world exploded around him. Fire burned at his eyelids while something hard and unyielding slammed into his side. A few seconds later, he felt a piercing pain in his right leg.

When the flames subsided, AJ opened his eyes. Pieces of orange plastic and black asphalt liberally covered the floor. His mind told his body to get up, but it wouldn't obey.

"AJ?"

Hearing his mother's voice eased his mental pain. "Mom, are you all right?"

Kneeling so that she was at the same level as her son, Cecilia nodded. "I'm fine, but you're not. Lie still until help arrives."

The loud clanging of the fire trucks filled the cabin. "Is anyone else hurt?" AJ asked, biting his lip as a new wave of pain traveled along his nerve endings.

"I don't think so," Cecilia said, brushing a lock of dirty hair off his forehead.

"Thank God," AJ whispered. Somehow, his gamble had paid off. Still, he felt like a murderer. A piece of the life-jacket that had terrorized them for so long lay near his right hand. He guiltily fingered the coarse fabric.

Cecilia knew that the anguish she saw on her son's face wasn't a reflection of his physical pain. He'd had to kill a man to save their lives. While the cause might be justified, it didn't make it any easier for him. Every life, no matter how twisted or warped, was precious. Laying her hand on her son's head, she gently caressed it with her fingers.

She wasn't sure how long she sat at his side lending him silent support. Time lost all meaning the minute the hijackers took over the plane. When strange hands circled her upper arms and pulled her to her feet, she fought them with all the weary strength she had left.

"It's all right, ma'am," the fireman soothed, easily avoiding the kicking feet. "We need to get you out of here. It's not safe."

"I won't leave my son," Cecilia stubbornly protested.

"We'll take care of him," the fireman assured her. "But it'll be more difficult if we have to worry about you, too."

"All right," Cecilia reluctantly agreed, allowing another fireman to lead her to the back of the plane.

At the top of the emergency chute, she hesitated. It wasn't fear for herself that made her pause. She still had doubts about leaving AJ in strangers' hands. Just when she had decided to return to her son's side, her eyes rested on a familiar panama hat. An overwhelming need to feel Rick's strong arms around her shoulders filled her. A last glance showed her AJ was being lifted onto a stretcher. Her body quivering with longing, she jumped. "Rick!"

Her toes had barely touched the tarmac when she was lifted to her feet. Joy filled her as familiar arms wrapped around her waist. She pressed her head firmly into her son's chest, and breathed deeply of the cologne that scented the thin fabric of his shirt. Now, she felt safe.

***

Rick handed Town's bag to the limousine driver, before turning to shake his friend's hand. "Thanks for everything, man."

"I didn't do anything," an embarrassed Town argued.

Shaking his head, Rick contradicted, "You were here. That was enough."

"I'm just glad Cecilia and AJ are all right."

"We'll probably see you in a few days," Rick assured him. "No hospital can hold my mother and brother for very long."

Opening the door to climb into the back of the limo that would take him to the airport, Town said, "Then I'll see you San Diego."

Shuffling his feet and avoiding his friend's eyes, Rick pleaded, "Would you do me one more favor? Check and see if there's an arrest warrant out for me. I missed my court date."

"I'm sure the judge will understand," Town soothed.

"Judge Warner?"

"I'll check the warrants and get back to you."

"Thanks." Rick smiled as he closed the car door.

A break in the traffic allowed the limo to pull away. Rick watched until it disappeared, before walking down the sidewalk leading to the hospital. He knew he was fortunate to get a room in the hotel next door. Many of the other victims' relatives hadn't been so lucky.

Though it was a short walk, he was gasping by the time he arrived. He had thought the heat in San Diego was bad. It might be ten degrees cooler here in Chicago, but it felt twenty degrees hotter. He sighed with delight as he walked into the air-conditioned building. Though he was already sweating, he ran when he saw an elevator arrive. Why did hospitals install the slowest on the market? Though he privately admitted he didn't have much patience, he would make book that these were the slowest elevators in the world. Maybe he should contact the Guinness Book of World Records?

As had become his habit, he stopped at his mother's room first. His short visits with AJ were strained, often leaving him feeling angry and hurt. Emotions his mother would read on his face. After all she had been through, she didn't need to worry about her sons' relationship.

Pushing through the door, Rick cheerfully greeted, "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, Dear," Cecilia returned, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

Concerned by her obvious distress, Rick quickly crossed to her side, "Is something wrong with AJ?"

"No, Dear," Cecilia said, patting his arm. "I just found out that Mrs. Carson died this morning."

"Isn't she the woman who sat next to you on the plane?" Rick asked, taking one of her tiny hands in his.

Cecilia nodded, before wiping her running nose, "Her heart just gave out."

"I'm sorry," Rick sympathized. Though he was sincere, he couldn't help feeling relieved it hadn't been his mother who died.

"She was doing so well." Cecilia sniffed. "I never even knew she had a weak heart."

"It's too bad that AJ didn't pick her to be exchanged."

"He didn't know about her heart, either," Cecilia quickly defended her youngest. "It wasn't his fault."

"I didn't say it was."

"Maybe not in so many words, but you implied it."

Finding it difficult to suppress the anger that had been seething inside him, Rick admitted, "I did find his choices, questionable."

"In what way?" Cecilia pressed, pulling her hand out of his.

Closing his eyes, Rick took several deep breaths. When he finally opened his eyes, he avoided hers as he asked, "How could he not have chosen you?"

"Oh, Rick." Tears filled Cecilia's eyes. "Don't you think he wanted to? How could he? Didn't you read the doctors' reports? Those pregnant women would surely have lost their babies. Few of the children and none of the older people would've survived another six hours in those conditions. Your brother made the wisest, most humane choice he could. I'm so proud of him."

"Then it's a good thing he was with you and not me," Rick quietly admitted. "I wouldn't have been so wise or humane."

"Yes, you would've," Cecilia confidently contradicted him, taking his hand. "I know you. Under the same conditions, given the same choices, your decision would've been exactly the same."

Rick shook his head. "I'm not sure I would've had the courage."

"I'm sure," Cecilia gently replied. Her voice becoming sterner, she asked, "Is this what's come between you and you brother?"

"I guess," Rick sheepishly confessed.

"Then you march right over to his room and apologize."

"What if he doesn't accept it?"

"He will." Intimate knowledge of her youngest son made Cecilia amend, "In time. You have to start somewhere."

Reluctantly accepting his mother's diagnosis, Rick slowly walked to the door. It was never easy to admit to yourself that you were wrong; it was even harder to do so in front of a much loved younger brother. "If he flays me into little pieces . . ."

"I'll put you back together again," Cecilia reassured him.

"I'm counting on it," Rick said, forcing a smile.

Realizing delaying only made his task more difficult, Rick threw the door open and stalked out. At first, his steps were strong and determined, but the closer he got to AJ's room, the slower he walked. He wasn't looking forward to being on the receiving end of AJ's sometimes acid tongue.

Angry shouts from the proximity of AJ's room brought a frown to his face making him pick up his pace again.

"It's your fault she died."

The closer Rick got to AJ's room the more worried he became.

"My mother would still be alive if you'd chosen her."

Heels clicking loudly on the linoleum floor, Rick started to run.

"Why didn't you pick her?"

One hand tightly gripping the doorjamb, Rick swung into the room. A burly man, about his own age and height stood over AJ. A raised fist hovered above his injured brother's head.

Rick grabbed the beefy arm and twisted it behind a broad back. Easily restraining the struggling man, he asked, "Are you all right, AJ?"

"Let him go, Rick," AJ softly ordered. "He never laid a hand on me."

"Lucky for him," Rick growled, twisting the arm higher.

"Let him go," AJ pleaded, his voice rising. "His mother just died. He has a right to be upset."

Rick reluctantly eased his grip. Shifting until he stood between the distraught man, who now knew must be Gerald Carson, and his brother, Rick argued, "He doesn't have the right to blame you."

"I do if it was his fault," Carson insisted, pointing his finger at AJ.

"AJ did the best he could under difficult circumstances."

"His best wasn't good enough for my mother." When Rick took a threatening step toward him, Carson backed out the door, "This isn't settled, Simon."

As soon as Carson disappeared, Rick turned his attention to his brother. The face was paler than it had been the day before. "Don't mind him, AJ, he was upset."

"Of course he was," AJ tearfully agreed. "His mother just died."

"That wasn't your fault."

The tortured eyes finally rose to meet his own. "Would you be saying that if it had been our mother who died?"

Though the room was warm, Rick shivered. Some of the resentment he had felt toward his brother returned.

"That's what I thought," AJ said, dropping his gaze.

"I did blame you at first," Rick admitted. "But that's only because I wasn't the one who was forced to choose who would live and who might die."

"You would've chosen Mom," AJ stated with certainty.

"Probably," Rick agreed, "but only because I don't have your courage."

AJ's head snapped up in surprise, "Courage?"

"You were forced, under difficult circumstances, to play God. Somehow, you were able to ignore your personal feelings and focus on what was right. I talked to the doctors, half those children wouldn't have lasted another six hours, and none of the senior citizens. The mothers would've certainly lost their babies. You done good little brother. Don't second guess yourself now."

"I never wanted the responsibility," AJ whispered. "I didn't want to be the one to decide who would live and who would die. It wasn't fair."

"No," Rick agreed, "it wasn't."

"The papers are calling me a hero," AJ said, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. "A hero doesn't kill."

His brother's quivering voice brought tears to Rick's eyes. "You saved over one hundred and fifty people with your brains, your courage and your heart. That sounds like a hero to me. You had the courage to do what you had to do."

"I knew Brian was going to die when I pushed him out that door." AJ shook his head. "I didn't know what else to do."

Anger welled up in Rick, "Brian wanted to die. What you did was prevent him from taking a lot of innocent people with him."

"I'm not a hero," AJ roughly insisted.

"You are to me, Kid," Rick softly whispered. "You are to me."


End file.
